


Helter Skelter: Penance

by Jacklyn_Flynn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacklyn_Flynn/pseuds/Jacklyn_Flynn
Summary: Cullen misses a lunch he promised to have with Olivia and now he has to be punished.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 16
Kudos: 29





	Helter Skelter: Penance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Charlatron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlatron/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for my dear sister witch in the Smut Coven; Charlatron. It's with her Trevelyan from Helter Skelter, Olivia! It was so much fun to write this shamelessly thirsty Inquisitor. In the tagged words of Charlatron "what's a positive word for slut?" 
> 
> There is much blasphemy and desecration of religion so if that bothers you, ya might wanna hit that back button. 
> 
> If the Chant of Light during sex in a Chantry is your thing, read on.

She was going to absolutely murder him. Slowly. Painfully. With great pleasure. He had promised- _ promised- _ to meet her for lunch. 

It was  _ far _ past lunchtime now. He took the stairs two at a time though it hardly mattered how fast he went. His immediate thought on finding her rooms empty was relief, but dread settled immediately after. 

She had gotten tired of waiting for him. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a huff of breath. As he was contemplating his next move he noticed a piece of paper tented on her desk addressed “Rutherford” in her graceful curving hand. 

He flipped it open and groaned. 

_ Fucking unbelievable. Meet me in the Chantry. Best do some jaw exercises on your way over.  _

Cullen took off his armor and dressed in something a little more comfortable. Other than the talents of his mouth, he had no idea what punishment was in store for him. He didn’t take any extra time to right his hair. He was already late enough. Long strides brought him through the compound to the Chantry. 

The door creaked open though the sister at the altar, adorned in white, red, and gold, didn’t seem to notice him. 

“Lock the door,” she told him. Cullen started in surprise. 

“Olivia?” he asked, not completely sure it was her. Why was she dressed like that? The late afternoon sun shone through the stained glass, casting her figure in brilliant oranges, ambers, and reds. It was harder to tell with the play of colors, but there was no mistaking that scarlet hair, rolling down her back.

“Indeed.” She turned and rested her hands on the altar, leaning back against it. “You have much to answer for. Lock the door” -she repeated pointedly- “and then come and confess your sins.” 

He chuckled and did as she asked, sliding the thick iron bar into place. “Are you going to make me call you ‘sister’ or ‘mother’?” he asked as he stalked toward her. 

Olivia silently imitated a gag. “Don’t you dare.” She scowled. When he reached out to pull her into his arms she took a quick step back, wagging a finger. “Oh no.” She pointed to the ground in front of her. “You must confess your sins first.  _ Then _ you get to perform your penance.” 

She slowly untied the wide sash around her slim waist and discarded it on the floor. When he didn’t kneel before her, she looked up at him through dark lashes and then down at the floor before settling back on him with narrowed eyes. With a defiant smile, he sunk to his knees in front of her. She took off the collar of the habit and tossed it aside as well. 

She bent at the waist to whisper in his ear. “Confess your sins.” She urged. 

“I confess that I have impure thoughts about a woman that I am not married to,” He murmured, something in his voice sending need down her spine and to her core. “Very impure thoughts.” 

“How often?” she spoke quietly, standing. She moved to his side and laid her hand on his shoulder. 

“Nearly every waking moment,” he said, keeping his eyes forward. “I see her, defile her, in my dreams even. I long to worship her.” 

Olivia walked behind him, dragging her fingers across his back to his opposite shoulder. By the time she walked in front of him again, the overskirt was gone, leaving her in just the basic Chantry robe, hugging tight to her slim waist and accenting her beautiful breasts. 

“You speak blasphemy,” she whispered, squatting down in front of him. 

His amber gaze was intense as he met her eyes. “I know.” 

The slightest smile graced her lips. She stood again, looking up at the looming effigy of Andraste. “What impure thoughts, exactly, do you have about this woman?” 

“There are too many to recount. If I thought of her every waking moment of my day, I could do so without reliving the same fantasy twice.” His words sent heat pooling between her legs. “I dream of her taste. Like an exotic spice. I dream of the sounds she makes when my head is between her thighs.”

“Her body-” he lowered his voice. “-is an example of the beauty the Maker can create. Worthy of worship, even though she may not think so.” 

“How do you know what she thinks?” Olivia asked, a bit faster and sharper than she’d intended. 

“Because she doesn’t hide her emotions as well as she thinks she does,” he said with a smirk.

Olivia’s eyes snapped back to him and that smug, shit-eating grin he was wearing. “What other impure thoughts do you have to confess?” 

“Her eyes,” he said, his voice that was almost a whisper. “ _ Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. / From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. / Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. / In my arms lies Eternity. _ ”

Olivia couldn’t help the visceral shiver that ran down her spine. What an interesting selection, and interpretation, from the Chant of Light. “You promise much.” 

He looked down at the floor between them. “You know I can deliver.” Two could play at that game. She walked behind him again, sliding her hand over his shoulder, then up his neck to grasp his chin. She pulled his head to the side so that she could bend and whisper in his ear again.

“ _ Open the gates. / To my Golden City you must sojourn. / At the foot of my throne, I shall anoint you, / Most favored of my disciples. _ ”

“Most favored? I’m flattered,” Cullen said with a chuckle. “I would love to open the gates to your Golden City.” 

Olivia couldn’t help but laugh, releasing him. “Really? That was terrible even for you, Rutherford. Are you prepared for your penance?” 

In response, he looked over his shoulder at her. “ _ Before them the throne of Heaven, waiting. _ ”

Olivia walked to the altar, pushing the sleeves of the Chantry robes down her shoulders. She untied the laces in the back and let the garment fall to the floor around her bare feet. 

“ _ And together they searched ever deeper / Until they found their prize _ ,” Olivia recited. 

Cullen licked his lips and her eyes moved to his scar as his eyes roamed her body. “For what prize do you search?” he asked, knowing full well the answer. 

She could see the tent in his pants, an affliction that he would have to suffer with a little while longer. “My release shall be your penance. A penance you shall have to serve twice. At least.”

“ _ Find me well within Your grace. / Touch me with fire that I be cleansed. / Tell me I have sung to Your approval, _ ” he said reverently.

She walked toward him, swinging her hips and cupping one breast, teasing her nipple between thumb and forefinger as he watched greedily. “Make me sing,” she challenged. Hiking one leg over his shoulder, she slid her fingers through his hair and pulled his head to her core. 

Cullen immediately lapped at the seam of her lips and found her already wet. The tip of his tongue searched for the sensitive bundle of nerves. He knew he found it when she let out a sharp exhale and her hand fisted painfully in his hair. One large hand wrapped around her thigh, holding steady the leg she rested her weight on. 

Olivia ground against his mouth as he began to suckle and tease her clit, drawing short gasps and moans from her. His hand moved higher, grasping the soft globe of her arse and squeezing tightly. 

His tongue moved lower, seeking at her entrance as his nose brushed teasingly against her pearl. The rough stubble of his chin scratched her sensitive skin in the most pleasing way. Her hips rocked against his mouth, her fingers still tightly grasping his golden curls. 

She had been anticipating this for hours. It didn’t take long for her to reach her edge. Anticipation wasn’t the only factor. His heavenly, talented mouth certainly took some of the credit. 

“Cullen,” her voice both pleading and commanding. Immediately his tongue slid back up to her clit. He knew just how much to tease. How hard to suck, how much to tease with the tip of his tongue. Even how much he could test with his teeth. He wrapped his lips around her pearl and hummed. 

With a gasp and a cry, she came. Her shout echoed around the high ceiling, filling the empty building. Cullen felt her heel digging into his back, the leg she was standing on shaking enough that he was worried she would fall. He continued to tease her until she pulled away, overwhelmed by sensation. 

He grasped her hips firmly as she planted her other foot on the floor. He looked up at her, the adoration in his gaze stirring a wholly unfamiliar emotion that tightened in her chest. Cullen laid kisses on her stomach, his hands roaming from her sides to the back of her thighs and back up again. 

“ _ For You are the fire at the heart of the world, / And comfort is only Yours to give. _ ” He murmured between kisses, his lips warm against her skin. He left wet marks as he went, rising slowly to his knees from sitting against his feet. 

Olivia swallowed hard at his words. He was playing with fire and she was sure he knew it. He would never let her forget how he felt about her. When his exquisite mouth gave attention to one pert nipple, her doubt and anxiety melted away, letting her mind focus solely on the pleasure he was lavishing on her. Winding her hands through his hair, she tugged him away from her breast. He looked up at her and she could feel his chest press against her stomach with each heavy breath he took. 

“I have served once,” he said, his hands sliding up the length of her back. His fingers splayed wide, taking in as much of her as possible. “I am ready to serve again.” 

“You aren’t supposed to be enjoying this,” she said with narrowed eyes. 

“I’m not buried to the hilt inside of you. It is utter torture,” he countered while managing to keep a straight face. Olivia was sure he would feel her traitorous body’s shiver in response. “ _ And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing / Can break me except Your absence. _ ”

“Shut up,” Olivia barely managed to get the words out. She meant to sound stern and commanding but instead, it came out in a breathless whisper. While he still knelt before her, she grabbed the back of his tunic and yanked it over his head, forcing his arms up. He ran a hand through his hair to push it back into place and she watched the serratus muscles of his chest flex and shift under his skin. 

Maker, she was  _ hungry _ and her appetite would only be satiated by the man supplicated in front of her. She sank to her knees in front of him, putting them almost eye to eye. “Your final penance shall be-” she traced the line of his collarbone to the center, then slid her finger slowly down his chest and stomach to the waistband of his pants. “-to fuck me so thoroughly that I forget my own name. I want every spirit and demon in the Fade to hear me wail in pleasure.”

Olivia had intended to continue but she was cut off when Cullen wrapped his arm around her and bent her back to the floor. One hand uncurled her leg and she managed to get the other from beneath her as well. She felt his breath against her ear as he growled, biting the lobe and tugging. His calloused hand covered her breast and squeezed, his mouth moving to capture her lips and gasp of surprise. 

Sitting back, he wrapped his hands around her waist, nearly encasing it completely, and pulled her backside to rest between his thighs. She rested her feet on his calves as she adjusted her where he needed. At the same moment that he rose from his sitting position to push into her, he pulled her hard against him. 

With a cry that rattled the windows, she took every inch of his aching cock. Pleasure shot through her, making her toes curl and her back arch further. She had nothing to hold on to, her nails scratching against the wood as she scrambled to find purchase. 

Cullen gave her no respite. He knew she didn’t need, or even want, any. With each sharp rise of his hips, he pulled her against him. There were so many things he wanted to take in he couldn’t focus on them all at once. The way that her breasts bounced against her ribcage, defined by the sharp arch of her back. 

He couldn’t quite see all of her face. Her head was thrown back, scarlet hair haloed around her. Her feverish pleas not to stop slipped from her mouth in sharp staccato between his thrusts, moans wavering. 

She was exquisite, every part of her pliable body his to manipulate. Although his thrusts stopped, it was only for a matter of mere moments. He let her waist go, her arse sliding off of his thighs to the floor. He hooked his arms under her legs and then moved over her, placing one hand on either side of her shoulders. Olivia was trapped, folded beneath him and completely open. She felt his thick cock slide between her lips twice before he found her entrance again, sliding deep to hit the spot that sent a thrum of pleasure up her spine. 

The carnal sound of slick flesh meeting over and over seemed to bring out a more primal part of him. When Olivia dared to open her eyes she found him watching her face, the amber in his eyes molten and fiery.  _ Maker, save her _ . It was so intimate, his intense gaze, but she couldn’t break free. 

His thrusts slowed but lost no strength as he started to roll his hips into her. She could feel the muscles of his core shift against the back of her thighs as he took long, deep, and achingly hard strokes. 

She was no stranger to this dance, but she wasn’t always blessed with such an innately talented, or well endowed, partner. Her cunt stretched to accommodate his girth with only the most pleasurable amount of discomfort. Determined to serve his penance well, each thrust bottomed out to press his swollen head against the spot that drove her mad. 

Everything else fell away except for his body moving against hers and his eyes burning their way into her soul. Or at least, what she would admit was left of it. Olivia couldn’t deny that it stirred something inside of her, other than the overwhelming waves of pleasure. 

His hair had fallen out of place, some of it curling under the exertion. Olivia felt a pang of jealousy tighten in her stomach and she couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at any of his other partners like that. If they could draw out the animal inside of him that drove him to possess every part of them. She was going to dissolve into a mass of trembling nerves and die happy. 

Sweat beaded on his forehead and she felt it drop against her own. Her undoing wasn’t the intense sensations that made her toes curl to the point of pain or even the smolder of his gaze, willing her to release. It was his voice. 

“Liv,” he groaned out between pants. Her name on his scarred lips was a pleasure all its own. “Fall with me.” He implored. His low timbre had such control over her that she did. 

If there was a woman in Thedas who could resist that plea, she would like to meet them and learn their secret. Just to give him a taste of his own medicine. To make him lose all sense of control and reality.

She shouted something akin to his name as she fell apart. Her hands found his arse with a slap and her fingers curled to rake her ails up to his ribs, leaving long red marks behind. She was vaguely aware of her own name echoing off the rafters, the motion of his hips growing erratic. Her whole body trembled and her cunt spasming around him to both hold him inside of her and milk his release. 

With a sharp exhale, his forehead fell to hers, both of them slick with sweat. They stayed like that for an eternity. Small aftershocks jolted from nerve ending to nerve ending, her body not yet ready to let go of her climax. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. His breath was warm against her already burning skin. 

“Fuck if I know,” she said with a breathy laugh. “And I don’t really care.” 

“Good.” He chuckled before capturing her mouth for a lingering kiss. He sat up, letting her legs unfold slowly. She groaned at the discomfort in her joints. Her legs extended on either side of his hips and she stretched like a cat, arms over her head. “That was-” She relaxed back against the floor, at a loss for words. 

“Fantastic? Earth-shattering? Utterly and completely satisfying?” he supplied, taking her hands and helping her sit up. He kept hold of her, pulling her up with him as he stood. She couldn’t help but notice the disaster that was the front of his pants. They’d been pulled down only enough to free him and the result was a slick mess over the front. 

Cullen didn’t seem to care, tucking his half-hard cock back into his pants. Luckily, the length of his loose tunic kept it hidden. They gathered their clothes and righted any artifacts that had been knocked around during their session. 

“Dinner is in an hour. Will you be there?” she asked, pulling on the last of her clothes. Blasphemous as they were, they weren’t the worst thing this Chantry would see. Not by a long shot. 

“Yes,” he assured her. 

“Promise?” Her brows raised skeptically. 

He looked around the empty chantry with a sly smile and then back at her. “Nope.” 

“You’re such a tit sometimes, Rutherford.” Olivia shook her head and barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. 

“You have a way of bringing it out of me, Trevelyan,” he shot back. 

“Incorrigible.” She murmured, stepping in front of him. She leaned in as if to kiss him, instead moving her head to the side to whisper in his ear. “Mind your tongue, Commander.” 

“As you wish, Inquisitor.” He caught a glimpse of her smug grin as she walked past him and opened the Chantry doors. Admiring the way her hips swayed and how the wind caressed her hair, he simply watched her leave. He couldn’t help but notice the stiffness in her gait. 

“ _ Your name is etched into my every step. / I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself. _ ” He murmured before leaving the Chantry, pulling the door closed after him. 


End file.
